Rejection
by disquisitivemind
Summary: "But even Glee, his solace, his own society where the rules truly didn't apply, his clockwork orange, didn't hold. Sequestered and forced to fit in with the labels around him he searched for release, and he found it in the most unlikely way possible."


**Author's note: Hey everyone, a one shot. This is written in a style I'm not quite familiar with, but I'm semi-happy with it. There is hinted Klaine at the end. A sequal-shot is in the works, which is heavily Klaine-centric and from Blaine's point of view. I hope you all enjoy it. Review if it is/was worth it please.**

Once upon a time there was a boy named Kurt. He wasn't pretty, or handsome, or lively, or sad. He was simply _there._ He had eyes too big for his head, and his nose was just a little too pointy. His ears were slightly crooked and his smile never showed his teeth, but the neighbors adored him.

Ms. Gardiner- who lived in the house to the left- was constantly buying him hats and taking him to the park when Burt and Emma were busy with the garage, and Mr. Anderson- who lived in the house across the street- would always accompany them and buy ice cream. Kurt still, to this very day, takes credit for their marriage.

Mr. and Mrs. Apflebeck- who lived in the house to the right- had taken over the task of watching Kurt after school from the time he was 6, when the newly named Andersons moved away, to the time he was 9, when his mother died. Things changed then.

Barely old enough to understand the concept of death, Kurt withdrew into himself, and while his father tried to support him as best he could, it was only with the help of their neighbors that they were able to pull through. The Apflebecks invited the Hummels over for dinner two times a week, and the Summers-who moved into Ms. Gardiner's old home- invited them over for supper, and while the mourning period persisted, it got better.

Years passed and Kurt eventually grew into most of his features, he was still smaller than most of his friends, but at least he looked proportionate. He experienced crushes, like any child, but he never felt the rejection. Not in the same way, anyway.

He was never, out right, rejected. He was, instead, picked on, bullied, abused, punished; never by his father, but by the school children. He was fine with girls until middle school, then they realized he was weird. Boys caught on a whole lot sooner.

He never experienced rejection because he never left himself open to experience it. Rejection by society didn't count to one so young. It didn't matter. It didn't feel like rejection until high school.

Kurt's father was always supportive, in his own way, even if Kurt didn't realize it. Once, Burt had brought down some of Emma's old things from the attic, old boxes of movies that were never unpacked, for fear of Kurt watching something too adult when he was only in elementary school. Kurt found them lying out on the table that Friday night. No note, no way to really identify them, and only through deductive reasoning did Kurt ever realize.

He watched them all that weekend, one directly after the next. _The Bird Cage, The Adventures of Priscilla; Queen of the Desert, Victor Victoria, Tootsie._ A middle-school aged Kurt had never been more amazed, and he never did find out that his father picked out all of the gay looking ones and just stuffed the rest back into the corner.

Through his father he cultivated a taste for his mother that he would have never known, and sometimes she was the only thing in common between the two. That is, until Kurt decided he was going to be just like Elizabeth Bennet and be wise in the way of human emotions…and more importantly, knowledgeable enough in obscure-not-your-average-teen things to quickly, and wittily disarm anyone he should come across in a verbal spar.

Thus, the 'obscure' comic book phase started. It began with the _X-Men_ movie he found while browsing the DVD selection within the lower cabinet. He could barely remember watching it with his mother, only two years before her death.

He had been bored silly, and so had his mother, but they laughed the entire way through-giggling over the leather clothing, guffawing at the atrocity that was supposed to be fashion, silence when they both realized white streaks looked awesome in really dark hair-and they couldn't have any. Kurt doesn't remember Burt watching the movie with them, but Burt did, and he had never enjoyed it more.

The second time Kurt watched _X-Men_ he was alone, waiting for his father to come in for dinner. He was amazed. By the end of the month his room was full of old X-Men comics. The art was ridiculous, the costumes even more so, but Kurt loved it, and Burt was happy to fuel the strange-for Kurt-fixation.

What started as X-Men quickly developed into _Hellblazer _and _Batman_ which, of course, lead into _V: for Vendetta_, _Watchmen, _and_ Deathstroke the Terminator_. Morals and insults were never so quickly whipped around a household, and sometimes, Burt wondered if that was what it would be like to have had a daughter instead.

The comic book phase didn't last much longer than Kurt's 8th grade year. It had quickly changed into dystopian alternate universes and independent films, but that didn't mean that whenever Kurt would pick up his new copy of _Vogue_ or _GQ_ that he wouldn't have a secret identity and backstory for each of his favorite models.

The summer before his first year of high school, he discovered football. Not American football, but what the pedestrians would normally call soccer. Powerful legs and sweat dripped forms, all on a high definition television showing reruns of last year's world cup. Kurt had found his own, albeit less fawn-Armani-Brian-Kinney, God.

Burt had grumbled something about 'soccer not being a man's sport' the first time he had seen Kurt actually watch a game, and the look his son gave him assured Burt, that if he were any other person his leg would have been kicked, very hard, at that moment. Kurt ignored him for the rest of the week, and it was only after Burt offered to play a game with him in the park that there was any hope of reconciliation.

The game never happened. Kurt didn't want to get sweaty, but the thought still counted.

High school started, and with it came Kurt's first _real_ crush, Finn Hudson. While Kurt had been busy realizing how depressing society really was, and how all it did was reject what it needed most, it seemed that the males within the school had been busy busting up their testosterone levels. His first day of school and his brand new Versace blazer and scarf were completely ruined, but it was Finn who had stayed behind to help him out of the dumpster, and even if he hadn't repeated the offer of friendship ever again, a bond was formed.

A one-sided bond, as it turned out. Two years, and Kurt Hummel had taken his matchmaking skills to the top once again, he had a 100% success rate and he was damned if that was going to drop. Carole and his father were perfect for each other, and even after Finn, society, had thrown him out again, he couldn't begrudge his father happiness.

It was worse when the entire school decided that he should become a Christian. Seriously.

Life continues on though, and even as Kurt's father and Finn's mother started to actually date, Finn and Kurt made amends. It wasn't in big ways, like the drama the Glee club seemed to inspire, but it was the way Finn would occasionally bake cookies, or make lemonade. Finn eventually figured out that Kurt hated lemonade and stopped making it, but the thought…

Finn was sloppy though, and he knew it. Kurt knew it. Burt knew it. Carole knew it. So when the second offering of 'hey look! I cleaned your living room! Are we cool now?' happened, it was too cute to resist.

The truce didn't last long though. If there was anything Kurt had learned from his dystopian alternate universes, it was that society never changed. So Finn warning Sam, the new kid, about his behavior really didn't seem strange. It was Kurt's second experience with rejection.

He rose above though, and with a little help from his father…he picked out the best song he possibly could have picked for a duet. 'Le Jazz Hot'. He practiced for hours; as he helped work on cars in the garage, as he took a shower, as he cooked dinner, as he sang in society's face.

The world continued moving, and Kurt grew past the rejection, before it got worse. Glee truly became the one solace he had, outside of his father and his room. Finn attempted to apologize, but Kurt had learned his lesson, and the bruises he received from inanimate objects were beginning to get annoying.

But even Glee, his solace, his own society where the rules truly didn't apply, his clockwork orange, didn't hold. Sequestered and forced to fit in with the labels around him he searched for release, and he found it in the most unlikely way possible.

An all-boys school. They wore uniforms, conformed, went with the system, they were everything he was not, but it was perfect. Or rather, _HE_, was perfect. Blaine Anderson was a man unto his own, even within the system that Kurt so rejected. He played the game like a pro and so far, it looked like he never lost. Blaine was adhering, and rejecting, walking the fine line that Kurt had only seen Nightwing work before.

And then it was Kurt's turn to reject. After finally meeting the boy, man, of his dreams…an imbecilic, moronic, ignorant cow of a Neanderthal had dared to touch his lips. Society had accepted itself and was twisting its desire, warping until all that he knew to be pure, to be his, to be unique was gone.

And '_courage'_ mocked him, even as it reminded him, even as it made him stronger.

It took two hours to decide. He was going to accept society, help it, nourish it, make it better. Dystopian was not to be a thing of his future. Perfect, him, courageous, Blaine, had finally arrived. They offered, the rejects, toeing a line that was never to be crossed.

Society rejected them anyway, more specifically, society rejected him. Again. Again. Again. And Again.

Things had to get better though, a wedding was on the way, and he was so happy. 100% success was still intact. It was the day after that the gavel dropped.

'…I'm going to kill you.' Whispered in hallways by the hypocritical society. Rejected. It only took two minutes and one phone call. Dystopian was not his future.

Kurt moved into the other society. The one that worked. The one that played by the rules. The one that broke each and every one as soon as the man wasn't looking close enough.

It was hard, at first. It was hard learning to fit in. learning how to want to fit in. learning that he could stick out, be himself, remain every bit as biting and as witty and as bitchy as before. Learning that toeing the line was possible.

Perfect, Him, Blaine, did it, and so Kurt did it too. The uniform didn't stop the sway of his hips as he walked down hallways, always two steps ahead. The uniforms didn't stop the strangely expressive and characteristic hair styles that each and every student seemed to possess. Conforming didn't stop the person that he was, he just had to learn how to do it in secret, in his mind, in his actions, in his words.

You couldn't get to the top without stepping on a few toes on the way there. Well, you can't get to the top without planning your attack first either, and if that plan was playing sheep, well then he was going to do it, and Blaine was going to help.


End file.
